


With your heart on your sleeve, there’s no secrets you can keep

by pollitt



Category: Captain America (2011), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Epistolary, Grand declarations, I wrote you a letter, M/M, Rekindled Romance (thanks to no longer being human popsicles), Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Road Trips, my boyfriend's back, playing footsie in a Utah diner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:24:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>I convinced those in command that with this flood of memories returning, with you remembering who you are, that this road trip would be a touchstone. And I believe it. Maybe that’s why it worked.</em>
</p><p>  <em>I didn’t tell them it was what I needed, too. </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	With your heart on your sleeve, there’s no secrets you can keep

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [[ART] With your heart on your sleeve, there’s no secrets you can keep](https://archiveofourown.org/works/504394) by [ravyn_ashling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravyn_ashling/pseuds/ravyn_ashling). 



> This was written for the [Avengers Reverse Big Bang](http://avengers-rbb.livejournal.com/) on LJ, and was inspired by ravyn_ashling's amazing artwork, which can be found in the story, and the higher resolution images can be found [on Tumblr](http://ravynashling.tumblr.com/post/30903329695/with-your-heart-on-your-sleeve-theres-no-secrets) and [ at AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/504394). Go tell her how wonderful she is, I'll wait. 
> 
> I’ve borrowed some things from the comics, but have rooted this in the movie universe. 
> 
> Thank you to ravyn_ashling for her patience as I finished this story, and for creating the original piece that had me flailing and powerless not to sign up for the challenge. And then the additional pieces that had me shaking with happiness. And to the ARBB mods for organizing the challenge and for being super cool as the deadlines approached and there was handwringing and deadline anxiety. And my unending thanks to my betas for their support and wrangling of words, ideas, plot points (and, sometimes, me) -- Maverick continues to be able to find the words I'm trying to type amid some rocky sentences, and she helped save me from Bucky’s bionic hips (don’t ask); and Data, who is magic, asks the right questions, and I can always count on for great crit. Any remaining mistakes are my own doing.
> 
> Title taken from “Some Racing, Some Stopping” by Headlights

“Tony, please stop trying to see if my leg can lift up to my ear. If you keep doing that it’s just going to break,” Steve said, watching as Tony attempted to hyperextend the joints on the prototype Avengers action figures that had arrived at Stark Tower earlier in the day.

“Steve, I had no idea you were this flexible,” Tony said almost breathlessly. He twisted the figure into another, rather lurid, position. “What have you been hiding from me and when can I see this on display?”

Steve couldn't help himself, he managed to blush and laugh at the same time. Picking up the Iron Man (Mark IV) action figure, he ran a fingernail under the seam of the suit’s breastplate until it popped off. Unsurprisingly, there was a detailed and muscled chest underneath not unlike the one that belonged to the flesh-and-blood Tony Stark.

“Why am I not surprised,” Steve said, holding up the bare-chested figure.

“Yes, well that had to be an option. Gotta show that the arc reactor isn’t just part of the suit.” Tony looked down at the figure in his hand. “Should we see what’s beneath Captain America’s big star?”

Before Steve could respond, Jarvis’s voice announced the immediate arrival of Nick Fury. Steve tossed the action figure to Tony and Tony dropped the dolls back into the box before the elevator opened and Fury entered.

“What do we owe the pleasure of your company? Another Impending alien invasion? Did you accidentally spray Raid near Hank’s lab again? How many times do we have to remind you that Ant Man is just a name. You know my suit isn’t really made of iron, right?”

“Captain Rogers, you’re going to want to come with me,” Fury said, ignoring Tony’s questions.

“What’s wrong, sir?” Steve asked, his curiosity piqued.

“I’ll explain on the way, but the short answer is, we’ve found James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Bucky? Bucky is alive? How? The last time . . . I saw him fall, sir. I watched him fall and I couldn’t reach him in time,” Steve felt out of breath suddenly. He looked back at Fury. “He’s alive?”

“He is. Like I said, I’ll explain more on the way. We’re having him moved to a secure hospital facility now.”

Steve didn’t remember Tony handing him his jacket, or how they made it to the helicopter or to the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. 

 

>   
> _Bucky,_
> 
> _This might seem like a coward’s way of doing things. Of telling you how I feel, and of what’s gone on. And you, who knew me best of anyone on the whole planet, know that I’ve never taken the coward’s way out. Not even when I was an asthmatic kid standing up to guys four times my size._
> 
> _But I don’t know any other way to do this._
> 
> _I started this letter in my head not long after they brought you in -- broken and bleeding and you looked almost nothing like I remembered. And you were everything that I had dreamed about._

 

The doctor, Steve realized, had been talking to him--to him, and Tony and Fury--for a couple of minutes now but none of the words were sinking in. While the other men looked like they were listening intently, Steve couldn't stop looking through the open door and at Bucky--or at least what he could see of him, which amounted to the outline of his lower half covered in the bed sheet.

"Captain," Tony said, squeezing his arm. "Why don't you go into his room. Fury and I here can parse the doctor speak and you look like you're going to jump out of your skin if you don't go in there. And while I’m sure any S.H.I.E.L.D. facility is insured to the hilt and ready for superhero eventualities, I think the hospital would probably prefer not having to scrape Captain America from the walls.”

 

>   
> _I couldn't believe it. I didn't know what to think, and all I knew was you were here and alive._
> 
> _It took a couple of days, but then Fury got the point that I wasn't going anywhere until you woke up, so he left me with files to fill me in on what S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about what had happened to you._
> 
> _I really hate files. They make lousy company._

 

Steve woke to the sound of a nurse coming into the room. It was the slightly different sound that her footsteps and her movements made that alerted him that this wasn’t the usual night nurse. He sat up, probably quicker than was both necessary and natural, but before he had an opportunity to turn around and greet her, her hand was on his shoulder.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay, Captain.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw a plastic container, a washcloth, an aerosol can, and the plastic package that he recognized as a disposable razor. He sat back down in the chair, forcing himself to relax.

“I guess he is a bit past regulation, isn’t he?” His smile was automatic by now, as wholesome as apple pie and warm milk, and looking at the nurse’s face, she wasn’t buying it one bit.

“Would you like to?” The nurse held the container out to Steve. “I can walk you through it.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

He followed her instructions to the letter -- warming the towel under hot water and letting the heat and the moisture soften the hairs on Bucky’s face before applying the shaving cream. And then, very carefully, he held Bucky’s face and began to shave him.

As Steve was running the razor over Bucky’s left cheek, Bucky’s eyes fluttered and his mouth twitched.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, trying to keep his voice quiet and calm. He heard the nurse step outside the room to, he guessed, go and get the doctor. “Bucky, it’s me. It’s Steve.”

Bucky’s eyes opened slightly and he began to cough. Steve grabbed the towel and wiped off the remains of the shaving cream and helped ease the oxygen tubes back to Bucky’s nose. “Shhh, it’s okay, Bucky. You’re safe.”

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice sounded like it had been dragged through thick cotton and gravel. When his eyes focused on Steve’s face at last, he had the briefest smile before realization seemed to set in and his face fell. Turning his head to the side he pushed at Steve’s chest. “Don’t call me -- I’m not Bucky.”

The doctor arrived just then and pushed Steve aside so he could check on his patient.

 

> _You were in and out of consciousness for a couple of days. And then you were finally awake for good and the doctor started talking about releasing you._

 

“He doesn’t have anywhere to go, sir,” Steve said, an idea pushing at the back of his mind. “And from my own experience, I know he’s going to need some time to clear his head.”

“His experience isn’t the same as yours, Captain. He didn’t spent decades suspended in ice, the Winter Soldier was --” Fury started to say.

“I know, sir.” Steve interrupted. He had read the files. “You can put a detail on us if you’re worried about what he might do, but believe me when I say, he needs this.”

Steve was surprised when Fury didn’t challenge him again and agreed.

 

>   
> _You used to make fun of how I had such a trusting face. The others--Tony, Clint, Bruce, Natasha, and Maria specifically--have taken it even further. They say I could get away with almost anything if I look earnest enough. I admit I did just that to convince everyone that letting me take you across the country on a road trip was what you needed. I told them it was what we always said we’d do when we had money and wheels, and before we ended up married with wives and kids and jobs that would tie us down. It was_ the _plan we had from the days when we were two kids with dirt behind their ears pooling pennies for a couple of hot dogs at Coney Island until that last night up in the mountains in a tent that was too small and we were wrapped up together in a sleeping bag. Every time, you told me you’d take me on a road trip from coast-to-coast, because no matter if I was little Stevie or Captain America, you always wanted to take care of me. Now, I’m going to take care of you._
> 
> _I convinced those in command that with this flood of memories returning, with you remembering who you are, that this road trip would be a touchstone. And I believe it. Maybe that’s why it worked._
> 
> _I didn’t tell them it was what I needed, too._

 

“You know, I had Jarvis run up some calculations,” Tony said, making himself a drink at the bar. It was sunset, the night before Steve’s departure, and there was a red glow spilling into the penthouse of Stark Tower. As he dropped two ice cubes into a cut crystal glass, Tony continued. “ At some point before you reach Las Vegas, you’re going to call and break up with me--even though, keeping it strictly scientific--and by that I mean going on the definitions from the kids these days--we haven’t really started going out yet. You'll call and you'll let me know, and you'll be so damn polite about it because that's who you are."

Steve leaned against the island and opened his mouth to interrupt him, but Tony held up a hand. There was the hint of a sad smile on his face. “And if you pass the lights of Vegas without making that call, well, the odds shift more in my favor. But Jarvis is rarely wrong. I bet my life on those calculations. And I trust my gut. You’ll make that call, Captain. And it’ll be the right one, because while a billionaire, genius, philanthropist, superhero is tough to turn down, even Iron Man can't stand up to the return of a lost love.”

Tony’s drink was abandoned as he walked over to where Steve was standing. There was nothing more to say as he curled his hand over the curve of Steve’s jaw and leaned in. Steve kept his eyes open for a breath or two longer than usual, watching how Tony’s eyelashes fluttered shut when he kissed him. He threaded his fingers in Tony's hair and turned his head, deepening their kiss.

When Tony pulled back, he coughed once, sniffed, and then continued, "Because I don’t trust that our mutual employer will be providing adequate transportation, I’m going to insist that you take one of my cars. But, what with the whole Jarvis prediction thing, I won’t be loaning you one of my favorites. Also, Pepper won't let me. Apparently I am too reckless in offering my toys when I know they won’t come back.”

"Thank you, Tony," Steve said, looking down at his hands, unsure of what else to say.

"Also, I took the liberty of having some clothes ordered for Barnes. I don’t know him, but I have a feeling that hospital gowns aren’t really his style, and I don’t think he packed an overnight bag before --" Tony stopped and looked at Steve’s pained expression. “Sorry. Asshole defense mechanism.”

“I’m sorry.”

“See?” Tony reached up and patted Steve’s face before walking away. “So polite.”

 

> _You agreed to go, but I don't know if that was because I bullied you into it, or if you just needed to get away from the city, or if you genuinely wanted to go. I don't know how I would've felt if someone had thrown me in a car after I woke up and took me on a trip across the country._  
> 

 

“Take good care of my car. I might have a lot of them, but this is a good one.” Tony offered his hand to Steve. “And try to break the speed limit at least a couple of times, okay Captain?”

“I’ll do my best,” Steve said, smiling as he took Tony’s hand. “Thanks again, Tony.”

“Stop with the polite, you’re going to make me feel even more ungracious.” Tony turned to James and aimed his next comment at him. “They broke the mold when they made him, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, I think they did,” James said, looking at Steve, the ghost of a smile curling at his mouth. Steve felt the skin at the back of his neck feel hot and prickly as both Tony and James looked at him.

“Have a good trip Mr. Barnes,” Tony said politely. “Take care of this one, he’s too good for his own good sometimes.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” James said in reply, turning his attention back to Tony. “I’ll bring him back safe and sound.”

“I know you will. I don’t need to tell Steve to keep an eye on you, I don’t think he’s had an eye off you since they brought you in.”

Steve coughed, slightly embarrassed. “We should probably get on the road.”

As they got into the car, Steve realized that James and Tony never shook hands.

 

> _It took a long time for me to adjust. I'm still adjusting. At first I stayed in my apartment, I looked at old newsreels and tried to get my head around what happened and everything that's happened since. I've fought aliens, and the 21st century still feels more like an alien world to me. I've helped save the world. But some things haven't changed. I'm still the Captain America for the masses, still the smiling guy who used to sell war bonds, only now it’s talk show requests and charity events._  
> 

 

Even out of his uniform, even though he left the leather jacket and the button down shirts in the suitcase and stuck to jeans and a t-shirt, no more than 10 minutes pass without someone recognizing Steve.

In every town they stopped in, someone asked him for an autograph or a picture or to tell them more about what happened in New York, or his appearance on _The Colbert Report_ (over 3 millions views and counting). Steve was polite, and signed their pictures and gave the S.H.I.E.L.D.-approved answers to how he and the Avengers defeated Loki. He didn't miss how James disappeared every time someone came up to them -- a comic book or magazine in hand for Steve to sign--or how he closed off when a camera or a smart phone was pushed into his hands combined with the request for him to play photographer for "just a few pictures."

Even in the warmer temperatures, Bucky insisted on wearing a long sleeve shirt and a glove over his metal arm.

Steve could count on one-and-a-half hands the number of times that James had started a conversation over the first two thousand miles of their trip. It’s not that their conversation had been strained, as long as Steve started it. And provided it never delved too much deeper than what’s in front of their eyes or what Steve had gleaned from the history books about how the world has changed from 1945 to 2012. He did try, once, to talk about what happened--about Schmidt and the tesseract and Loki’s army--in a restaurant just outside of Des Moines, but James changed the subject quickly. Steve couldn’t miss the pained look on his face and didn’t try again.

 

> _You'll laugh when you see some of the stuff I’ve had to do. At least I hope you'll laugh. I miss your laugh almost as much as I miss other things about you._  
> 

 

There was a list of hotels along the way that Tony provided names, numbers for, as well as check-in aliases. Each, he promised, had his credit card on file and were discreet. No one would be leaking news to the papers that Captain America was on a cross-country road trip.

The first hotel, outside of Toledo, had a king size bed and a Jacuzzi.

James had stood just inside the room and stared at the bed when they’d arrived. Steve offered to sleep on the couch, but James had shaken his head and told Steve not to be stupid, there was more than enough room. They slept on separate sides of the bed, Steve watching James’s back until he couldn’t stay awake any longer.

Steve had made sure to ask for two beds at the next hotel.

 

>   
> _I could be dramatic about it. I could say I waited 70 years for you and that I could wait another 70 years, but you and I both know what happened. I lost all of that time. You weren't so fortunate. There are memories that I can’t touch, nightmares that haunt you at night. I hear you. I know you try to keep quiet, try to make sure I don't hear, but I do. I tore a hole in the mattress when we were staying at that hotel just outside of Omaha. You were in pain and all I wanted to do was crawl into bed next to you, but I didn't think you'd let me. So the mattress paid the price. (Don't worry, I left a good tip.)_
> 
> _I only know what the S.H.I.E.L.D. reports say about what happened. I don’t think I’ll ever really find out the truth--not all of it--because you're afraid what I'll say, what I'd think if I ever knew._

 

"One hundred seventy-five miles to Vegas," James said, pointing at the signs at the side of the road. "Nick Fury gave me a five and told me to bet on black. I can't tell if he was making a joke."

Steve thought about Tony's words, about the fact that James just started a conversation without prompting. As the mile markers marked down to Vegas, Steve realized it was now or never.

He nearly missed an off ramp advertising hotels, squealing the brakes and veering sharply over unpaved ground to get onto the ramp.

"What the hell, Steve?" James asked, releasing his grip on the door handle. "What was that all about?"

"It's getting late. I thought it’d be best if we rest here for the night." It was a lousy excuse, but luckily James didn’t call him on it. He just shook his head and went back to staring out the window. The momentary swerve into normalcy, even if it was just to yell at Steve, was gone.

He knew the list by heart, but Steve still checked to see if any of the hotels Tony suggested are within any ra dius of Cedar City, Utah. Unsurprisingly, none were. In that moment, Steve actually preferred it that way. He drove for a couple of miles until he spotted a well-lit roadside motel.

“How’s that look?” He asked James, pointing at the sign.

“Like we’ve gone off the itinerary set out for us,” James answered, looking over at Steve.

“Good.”

Steve parked the car and together they walked into the front office. When the clerk behind the desk asks for a name, Steve looked at James, who answers. “J. B. Barnes.”

Steve paid with cash and the clerk didn’t show any sign of recognizing him as he handed them a key to a room on the west side of the building.

The room was clean, if sparsely furnished with two double beds and a nightstand in between them, a shabby but sturdy looking lounger, and an old TV on a wooden dresser. To the side, Steve could see a small bathroom.

“This definitely isn’t one of the places that Stark recommended to you,” James said, walking inside.

“Tony would probably buy this place and have it renovated before he’d spend a night here,” Steve said, dropping his bag by the door and throwing the deadbolt.

“I meant to ask,” James continued, walking further into the room, “how long have you been sleeping with Iron Man?”

Steve wasn’t expecting that question. He thinks back throughout the weeks, at the maybe hour that Tony and James had been in the same room together and any interaction he may have had with Tony in front of James.

“I’m not--”

“I heard the gossip at the hospital. You know how nurses like to talk. You don’t owe me anything, Steve. You never did. You’re going to tell me you didn’t sleep with him?”

“No. I mean, I have. I did. But everything changed when we found you, Bucky.” Steve said the name before his brain could tell his mouth to shut the hell up.

“Damn it, Steve.” James’s fist connected with Steve’s jaw, and before he was even really aware of what happened, Steve threw his own punch, his knuckles landed square against James's mouth. For a long moment the sick sound of skin-on-skin and bone meeting bone rang in both of their ears.

"I'm not Bucky anymore," James said, almost defeated, red blood starting to well from his split lip.

"What do you want me to call you then?" Steve's jaw ached and his knuckle's hurt, and there were tears stinging his eyes, although he was sure it wasn't just from the pain. " What should I be saying? The Winter Soldier? Killer? Assassin?

"I expect better from Captain America," James almost spit out the name. Flecks of blood landed on Steve's shirt. "That's not playing fair."

"Yeah, well I've learned a thing or two these last couple of years. Sometimes you have to play a little dirty. I've driven over two thousand miles trying to get you to talk to me. We used to be able to talk about anything. We were Steve and Bucky against the world. You used to --"

"There are a lot of things I used to do. But that was a lifetime ago. Bucky Barnes died in the mountains in a pile of snow and rocks and with your name on his lips." The words cut Steve deeper than any knife. "I'm exactly what you just said I was -- a killer, a poison."

“They brainwashed you. You were programmed... It wasn’t _you_. I can’t... Do you want me to hate you? Because I can’t. I _can’t_ , I --”

“You just never quit, do you? You and your stupid goddamn heart.”

The words should’ve stung, but they sounded so much like the Bucky that Steve knew, the Bucky that Steve missed so damn much, that he couldn’t help himself. This was what he’d nearly driven them off the road for, wasn’t it? This fight, this moment, this decision.

“Dammit, B-- Barnes.” Steve crowded James up against the motel’s door, pressing their bodies together from chest to hips. He could feel James's heartbeat race against his chest, he could see how James’s pupils were blown wide even before Steve leaned in and kissed him--rough and sloppy and tasting of copper. James's hands scrabbled along Steve's back, finding purchase on the bottom hem of his shirt and pulling upward until they had to break apart so Steve could pull it off and throw it to the side.

“Your hair,” James said with a laugh, his eyes a little glazed. He reached for Steve, grabbing his forearm and pulling him back until Steve had him pressed against the door again. He leaned in, biting at Steve’s bottom lip as he shifted his leg, pressing it up against Steve’s groin.

“ _Oh_.” Steve ran his hands over James’s sides and back, sliding them beneath the waistband of James’s jeans and urging him closer as Steve pressed up against James’s thigh. “Yes. Bed.”

Their hands fumbled with buttons and zippers in the ever awkward balancing act of leaving a trail of discarded clothes--Steve's pants, James's shirt and jeans, their socks -- in their wake without tripping or halting the relearning of one another’s mouths on the way to the bed. When James's knees caught the end of the bed, they stopped kissing.

"I want you." Steve said, low, his hand reaching down to cup James through his boxers. "Please."

James inhaled sharply through his teeth as Steve touched him again, his thumb slipping into the slit at the front of his boxers. "Anything. Anything, _God_."

Given permission, Steve smiled, and leaning down to catch James's mouth, kissing him deeply before pushing him back onto the bed. James laughed as Steve’s fingers hooked onto the waistband of his boxers and as James pulled himself farther up the bed, Steve slid his boxers off, freeing his erection.

Steve stood at the foot of the bed and watched the movement of James’s muscles in his arm and his stomach, how his metal arm stood out in contrast against the comforter of the motel bed. So much had changed, and yet, when he looked up at James’s face, it’s as if nothing has changed at all. He wanted to bury himself so deep inside James that he’d never leave, that James would never doubt where he belonged. That thought alone almost sent Steve over the edge. There would be other nights for that. Tonight was about reconnection.

“Steve?” James’s voice brought Steve out of his thoughts. Seeing James’s hand moving along his stomach and toward his erection spurred Steve into action.

He slipped off his boxers, letting them pool on the floor, and then put his knee on the bed and crawled upward, letting his body slide over James’s, the sensation of skin against skin made bright stars spark behind his eyelids.

“James,” Steve said, his voice dragging through a hiss as he moved his hips, the head of his cock rubbing against James’s. The slick slide of precome easing the path.

“Yes.” James’s hand skittered along Steve’s back and reached down to cup his ass as he moved his hips, thrusting forward and sending tremors along Steve’s muscles. Steve leaned down and licked his way into James’s mouth, he curved a hand around James’s face as they kissed, while he raised himself slightly on his other forearm.

It didn’t take them long to find a rhythm, their hips meeting and moving in counterpoint to their kisses, and all too soon Steve felt he was getting close. His thrusts quickened and then stopped as his orgasm washed over him, his mouth pressed to James’s ear as he breathed Bucky’s name.

“Yes,” James answered, holding him through the last shudders.

Steve shifted to his side, and looked down at James, and then down at James’s waiting erection. Steve smiled, allowing a little wicked into his grin, and slid his hand into the mess on James’s stomach before running the flat of his hand over James’s cock and earning a sharp intake of breath in return.

“I’ve got you,” he said, pressing his forehead against the side of James’s temple. “Come for me.”

James thrusted up into Steve’s grip, and it only took a few more strokes until he wrapped his arm around Steve’s back, his nails scratching along Steve’s skin as he came.

Steve rested his hand over James’s heart, feeling the strong beat under his palm, and pressed a kiss to James’s forehead. He should say something, he thought, but he didn’t want to shatter this moment. So they laid there, holding one another, until the sweat on their skin started to cool.

Steve went into the bathroom to get a washcloth. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and couldn’t help but smirk at the way his hair was tangled and at the red of his mouth from James’s kisses -- and his stubble.

When he returned to the bedroom, he reached down to clean off James’s chest when James’s hand landed on his, stopping him.

"Please, just let me," He said quietly as James removed his hand, allowing Steve to run the damp washcloth over his stomach and chest. When he was done, he leaned over and placed a kiss on James’s mouth. "Thank you."

\-----

James was asleep, or doing a good job faking it, when Steve came back from the bathroom. The second bed was untouched, and Steve could have slept on it, but instead he climbed onto the bed and fit his body behind James’s, curling his arm around James's chest.

Before he fell asleep, he felt fingers lace with his own.

 

>   
> _I never had a chance to mourn you back then, it all just happened so fast -- There we were on that train and then you were gone. When I got back, I went to that bar, only it was a shell of a place--bombed out and broken. Like I felt. I went there and I tried to get drunk, and then Peggy showed up. She showed up and I had that picture of her in my compass and she was gorgeous and smart and all I could think about was you--your hand and your face and how I couldn’t save you. She got it. She told me I didn’t have to choose. I didn't have to stop caring about you if I let myself fall for her, and it was okay and I *wanted* to believe her. And I think I did believe her. And then I flew that ship into the ocean and I lost her, too._
> 
> _I’ve spent the last 3 years mourning what I lost and figuring out how to live in this time that I still don't know that I belong in when everyone I knew was gone. And then there you were._
> 
> _Tony said that_

 

Steve slips out of bed before the sun is up and pads quietly toward the bathroom, snagging a pair of boxers from his suitcase and his shirt off of the floor.

He’s washing the blood out of his shirt in the sink when James appears in the doorway, leaning in against the frame. The sun has started to rise, and as Steve looks at their reflections in the mirror there’s almost a halo behind James. The swelling of his lip has gone down and there’s a red patch of skin that Steve knew he’s responsible for as well. In his hand, Steve can see he’s holding sheets of paper.

“This would be so much easier if you hated me,” James says, looking down at the pages in his hand and it dawns on Steve what it is, that it’s his letter, his unfinished letter...

“What would be easier?” Steve asks, genuinely curious. A scratch on his shoulder from last night starts to itch. James looks like he’s torn between calling Steve an idiot and never saying another word. A curl of something sour starts to settle in Steve’s stomach.

“Letting you go.” James answers, holding up the pages. "But no, Captain America can't leave a man behind, not if you think you can save them.”

“Didn’t we talk about this last night?” Steve can’t keep the bite out his voice and James’s eyes widen.

“We started to, but I seem to remember some fighting and then some fucking, and I think we just forgot to pick up that thread of conversation." James shuts his eyes, taking deep breaths. “I don’t belong here.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You’re Captain America. You’re an Avenger. Earth’s hero. This is who you are, Steve.” James’s eyes drift down to the letter. “And Stark-- ”

“Tony said I had to choose. You’re right, I am Captain America, I can’t change that. I don’t want to change that. But that’s not all I am. I’m Steve Rogers, too. I’m him first, and it’s Steve’s heart-- _my_ heart--that I need to listen to." Steve lets the shirt drop into the sink and he moves so he’s standing in front of James. “With Peggy, I never had to choose. She didn’t make me before... before I lost you, and then afterward... I didn’t have to. Tony, to his credit, is much more blunt and he didn’t give me that out. He’s an asshole and he’s one of the best men I’ve ever known. Once I actually got to know him.”

Bucky’s smile is amused but Steve can't miss the edge of heartbreak.

"If you think that was in any way a ‘Dear John’ letter then you still need to get your head checked." Steve pulls the pages out James’s hand and lets them drop to the floor. “You read this so you know what I said. I've waited over 70 years for you, and that's not something that I'm going to give up on. If the letter wasn't clear enough, then let me spell it out for you -- it's been you since Brooklyn and Coney Island hot dogs."

"What happened, we can't change it. But if you think that's going to make me leave you right when I finally, finally have you back..." A sick realization hits Steve, something he hadn't thought about. "Unless you don't want to be back."

"God, shut up, Stevie." James's hand is warm where it touches Steve's face.

"I would say 'make me,' but my face still hurts from last night." Steve can feel a grin tugging at his mouth. "So how about we just do this?"

Steve's arm slides along the small of James's back, pulling him closer. He lets his smile turn a bit wicked when James brushes against Steve's thigh.

The kiss is soft, almost sweet. Nothing hurried and, finally, nothing held back.

James’s hands slide into his hair, his fingers scratching lightly against Steve’s scalp. A very small part of Steve’s brain--the part not focused on _Bucky_ and _yes_ and _thought I’d never have this again_ \--registers the difference between skin and bone and the slightly cool metal of James’s bionic arm. It’s both familiar and new, just like almost everything is between them now. It's something, Steve realizes with a something that feels suspiciously like giddiness, that will become part of the new normal, _their_ new normal. 

James's stomach makes a hollow grumble and for the first time in a very long time, Steve hears Bucky's laugh.

"Breakfast?" Steve asks, biting the curve of James's jaw.

"Probably a good idea," James answers, pulling back slightly to look at Steve. "You look like you got into a fight, there, Captain."

"Hmm, I wonder why?"

James rolls his eyes and pulls away completely. "Get dressed. I can't be responsible for letting Captain America go out into public looking like he spent the night doing very un-American things.”

“It may not have been exactly legal in Utah, either.” Steve catches James’s hand and pulls him back, laughing as they crash into one another before they lean in for another quick kiss. Because they can now. “But we’ll be in Nevada tonight.”

“I could get used to this side of you, Rogers.” James says, smiling and pushing at Steve’s chest before walking back into the room. “You and your promises.”

Steve follows and picks up their discarded clothing from last night before grabbing a pair of jeans and a shirt from his suitcase. He takes his time dressing as he watches as James steps into his jeans and a loose gray Henley that Steve recognizes as his own.

“I didn’t think you’d mind,” James says, openly staring as Steve pulls on his shirt. “And now let’s go get some grub.”

\-----

There's a greasy spoon just up the road that looks like it hasn't been renovated since the 40s, and the woman behind the counter looks like she's been there just as long. She doesn't give them a second look when they slide into a booth and order -- eggs and bacon for James, and waffles for Steve. And stick-a-spoon-in-it coffee for them both.

"What's Stark going to say when you tell him?" James asks, stealing a piece of waffle from Steve's plate.

"Knowing Tony, he probably has a speech prepared. Apparently he knew this was going to happen. He ran some statistics and I was going to choose you, and it was going to happen before we got to Las Vegas."

"So that's why you nearly rolled the car getting off the highway."

Steve feels heat flush his cheeks, caught in this bit of information. "It was going to be my last stand. I wasn't going to let you go without a fight."

"Well, you got your fight, or at least part of one, before we got distracted." James smiles and his foot bumps against Steve’s under the table.

Steve bumps his foot back, and before they know, it they’ve descended into ridiculousness, bumping their feet against one another, laughing and wearing stupid grins. They cough back their laughter and still their feet when their server stops to refill the coffee before retreating back to her place behind the counter.

“Man, I missed you,” James says, rubbing his hand over his face as if he were trying to wipe away his smile. It doesn’t work.

A nearly empty diner in the middle of Utah, over a breakfast of eggs and waffles and coffee, seems as good a place as any for grand declarations.

"You know how that letter was going to end, right?" Steve asks. Just to make sure.

"Yeah, Steve, I do." James reaches across the table and threads their fingers together. "Me too."

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to tell [ravyn_ashling](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ravyn_ashling) how wonderful [the art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/504394) is.


End file.
